


Meet the Neighbours

by elisi



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Crossover, Gen, Humour, M/M, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), this is very silly, yes another one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:41:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25383250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisi/pseuds/elisi
Summary: Missy and the Doctor move to the South Downs. Aziraphale and Crowley are their neighbours.That's it, that's the set-up.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 50





	Meet the Neighbours

**Author's Note:**

> I owe this entirely to [ileolai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ileolai) who speculated that their 'Aziraphale and Crowley as the new neighbours' drawing echoed their 'Missy and Twelve as the new neighbours' drawing. I said... what if they were _each others' neighbours_ and thus much ridiculousness ensued. Drawing included below, with kind permission. Original post [here](https://ileolai.tumblr.com/post/187887521574).
> 
> There will be more, but I don't know when. I _am_ working on the next chapter of 'What if God was one of Us?' - this is basically procrastination. But who am I to spurn another cross-over?
> 
> Also many thanks to Juliet for the beta! <3

The annoyingly twee little doorbell rang its annoyingly twee little tune, and since the Doctor was busy unpacking (not a chance in Hell Missy was hauling boxes around, no sir, that’s what minions were for) Missy unhappily accepted the fact she’d have to answer the door.

The nearest thing to a minion was the potato head, but he’d gone to the shops or something equally dull, and the Doctor managed to communicate _‘Surely you are able to open the door and speak to whoever is there without accidentally murdering them or spontaneously combusting from the inconvenience’_ with only his eyebrows. _Including_ the sarcasm. So off she went, like a bloody drudge and not someone who could wipe out half a solar system without even getting out of bed. (OK that one had been an accident, but the point stood.)

Of course the very _idea_ of a cottage in the South Downs was infuriating. The Doctor had framed it as ‘getting used to being around people’ (apparently living in a box with only a piano wasn’t sufficiently social, and exposure to other life forms would — so he claimed — help her to see them as _individuals_ and not ants she could have fun exploding with a magnifying glass and a sunbeam), so here they were in a thatched abomination with roses round the door and flowery curtains, and she was considering how long she could leave it before there could be a mysterious arson attack.

Fixing a smile in place she opened the door, ready to be glacially polite, and then blinked slowly as she took in the sight that greeted her.

Two — to all appearances — male human creatures, one dressed like an old fashioned professor (including a tartan bow tie) and the other like an ageing rocker (complete with sunglasses); not exactly Doris from the WI, and all the better for it. Although the pastel one was carrying a hamper.

Missy was old, and, thanks to a long and misspent life, suspicion ran through her veins like curiosity ran through the Doctor’s. It came in handy though, since she (better than most) knew that appearances had a way of being deceiving — and there was definitely something _off_ about these two. Nothing she could put her finger on immediately; possibly it was just a sixth sense of ‘They’re trying too hard to appear human’ — a talent she had herself mastered (well, more-or-less), but it made it easy to spot when you knew. 

She immediately decided to change tactics.

“Well good after _noon_ gentlemen,” she purred, looking from one to the other with exaggerated delight. “How can I help?”

“Good afternoon,” Fluffy Professor beamed back. “We just thought we’d stop by and welcome you to the village. I am Aziraphale, and this is my husband Crowley.”

“ _Charmed_ to meet you,” Missy replied, by now practically _oozing_ friendliness. “I’m Missy. My… _friend_ is buried underneath boxes, or I’d call him. How _very_ kind of you to stop by. People are always saying how little villages in the countryside are so insular and hostile towards outsiders, but I never believed a _word_ of it.”

Fluffy Professor (Aziraphale? Fascinating name, possibly Jewish and/or Biblical origins? She was busy scrolling through her mental rolodex of religious names and references) seemed to practically glow, as his other half narrowed his eyes behind the sunglasses. (She couldn’t see them, but she could tell. It was exactly what she would do herself.)

“Quite right too,” Aziraphale replied. “Everyone has been quite _marvellously_ friendly and welcoming. So we figured — since we are your next-door neighbours — that we would do our little bit. We know how much work moving is and how long it can take to unpack, and thought we’d bring you a little something.”

He held out the hamper, and Missy made a great show of being overcome with surprise and delight and generally piled on the gratitude as much as she dared. Fluffy Professor was thrilled and pleased as punch, which made a lovely contrast to his other half. Crowley (no first name? What kind of person went by their surname only?) clearly understood that she was being deliberately rude and was quietly seething away, to Missy’s great delight.

Missy decided that with neighbours this interesting she might wait a week before setting fire to the cottage. They made all her ‘spidey senses’ tingle very pleasantly indeed.

When she finally managed to get rid of the unexpected callers, she gently closed the door before tearing into the sitting room, haphazardly hurling the hamper on top of a pile of boxes and throwing herself at the Doctor.

“Glasses, glasses, glasses,” she demanded impatiently; but since he just looked at her like an idiot (no change there) she took matters into her own hands, locating the glasses in one of his pockets, slammed them onto her face and made for the window, doing her best to hide behind the hideous curtains.

“Yesssss,” she gloated, vindicated. “I _knew_ it!”

The odd couple were still on the garden path, having stopped to admire some of the flowers, and Missy felt her hearts swell. _Jackpot._

“What?” the Doctor asked, moving one of the boxes he was surrounded by to get a better view of the couple on the path. “I heard you talking to them. They’re the neighbours?”

“Oh, they’re _much_ more than that,” Missy said, smile sharpening.

“Fine, let me see,” he said, taking the glasses as she handed them over before looking out the window… And then she gleefully observed his jaw slowly dropping.

“You know, I take it all back,” Missy smiled. “This cottage was a _marrrrvelous_ idea.”

“Surely it _can’t_ be,” the Doctor muttered, checking the settings, then looking out again.

“Oh yes it ca-aaaan,” Missy sing-songed, twitching the curtain like a pro.

Leaving their garden were an angel and a demon, and the future was looking up.


End file.
